


Contradictory

by APocketSizedAce



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: But i like how it came out, But thats only a maybe, In light of the new comic, Really this is half a character study and half writing shit for the sake of it, So im keeping it as finished, There may be other chapters, Torbjörn’s 9th kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 12:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10386579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APocketSizedAce/pseuds/APocketSizedAce
Summary: Bastion is a paradox. A war machine covered in flowers, unyielding metal that's somehow so gentle and a soldier painfully innocent.They are made of contradictions, and perhaps Torbjörn might be proven wrong. Maybe one of these mechanical monsters he made survived for a reason.





	

  Getting Bastion out of the woods without being seen was a challenge, but Torbjörn didn’t become an engineer by being stupid. He’d loaded them into the back of the van he’d driven here in. It was a bit of a tight fit, he’d been planning on bringing the Siege-Automaton back in pieces. It had been a bit difficult to get them to focus on the task at hand, they had the attention span of a toddler. He’d eventually coaxed them inside with a handful of twigs as an offering. Why they beeped and chirred so happily at this is a mystery to him. Quickly he hops out and shuts the doors. If Bastion decided to make a run for it the thin metal wouldn’t hold them, but his previous statement still stood. They follow his rules or they’re dead.

  After climbing into the driver’s seat Torbjörn looks at the Omnic he’s somehow ended up with and doesn’t quite know how he feels. They’re... childlike. That’s not a word that should ever be applied to a Bastion Unit. It’s hard to wrap your head around the conflict that is Bastion. Over 7 feet tall, armoured plating and heavy weaponry tucked just out of sight, the visual screams danger and lethal power. He would know, he designed this particular variant of Omnic.

  However their actions are much too contradictory. Their posture is soft, almost timid in the way they hold their arms close to their body. The overwhelming curiosity they have, it’s in the tilt of their head and how everything they come across they have to get up close and personal with, be it a squirrel, plant or even a bear. Bastion is playful in a way reminiscent of a young child, easily entertained by games played with their animal friends. There’s few stranger sights than a war machine running around a field with deer, the animals clearly playing with, not fleeing, the hulking Omnic. It’s in the way they shrink down when they feel threatened, backing away fearfully. Whether of the threat or themselves, he doesn’t know.

  Part of him wants to hate them, wishes for them to be the killing machine they’re programmed to be. So he has someone to blame that’s actually guilty. But he supposed that the blame would still fall on him for his hand in creating something so vicious. He hadn’t meant to, but intent doesn’t matter when you have to bear the weight of tombstones on your back.

  But he’s also so incredibly happy, to know Bastion is the way they are. That they’re ignoring the programming that must scream for them to attack, to riddle anything flesh and blood with bullets. They’re soft and painfully innocent despite what they’ve been through. They even got themself a pet that they’re very attached to. It’s a selfish thought, but he sees a small piece of redemption for himself in them. That maybe not everything he creates ends up destroying.

  There’s no windows in the back of the van, _unintentional_ but very useful. If Torbjörn wasn’t already technically a criminal for answering the Recall he’d have worried more about the consequences of saving Bastion. A small, hollow laugh leaves him at the thought. Who would have thought a Bastion Unit would need rescuing from anything and that he would be doing the rescuing. Irony that he can’t focus on at the moment because the two of them _really_ need to get moving,

  He sticks the keys into the ignition and _doesn’t_ smile when Bastion lets out a string of surprised beeps as the engine rumbles to life. His wife, at the time just a friend, had designed the language the Siege-Automatons spoke, said the noises were cute. He’d told her that the Bastion Units weren’t supposed to be cute, they were over 7 feet tall and had a gun for a hand. And they _definitely_ weren’t cute when a whistled tune signalled the arrival of the metal monster’s tank mode.

  But seeing the Omnic scuttle around in the back of the van, yeah, he could see it. He still barked at them to stop moving around back there though, he had to show them he was in charge after all. It was just like his kids, let them know the puppy dog eyes work and they’ll have you under their thumb in record time.

* * *

 

  Driving to the pickup sight takes awhile. Before he returned to Sweden Winston had arranged a checkpoint for him, encase anything came up on either end. It’s an old silo on the edge of an abandoned farm and smack dab in the middle of nowhere. He parks the van underneath a tree and Bastion twitters curiously now that they’ve stopped moving. “Stay there and don’t try anything. I’ll be right back.” Torbjörn tells them sternly, pointing his finger for good measure. He tries not to think about how it’s the same tone he uses on his kids when he wants them to behave.

  The small contact device is hidden in a small pile of rubble, the grey casing making it blend in with the fallen concrete. It’s just built to send a message for Overwatch to either come here because there’s a situation or he needs to get back sooner than anticipated. They can’t risk too much radio activity right now. The fewer people who know about the Recall the better. He presses the button and selects the option for pickup. A few moments tick by before Message Received pops up on the screen followed by an estimated arrival time. 2 hours before the ship gets here, he may as well get some work done he thinks while he pockets the device.

* * *

 

  A fenced area is still mostly standing, save for a hole just big enough for the van to fit through. He backs the vehicle into it and picks up his tool kit before opening the back. Again, this won’t hold Bastion if they decide they don’t want to be held. But he needs more space to work and hopefully the clearly defined barrier will keep them from wandering away.

  The Omnic stumbles out of the van with all the grace of a 7 foot 4 metal war machine with only one functional hand. _Meaning_ they fall over and have to struggle back to their feet like a turtle that’s been flipped on it’s back. Torbjörn’s can feel his lips twitch into a smile against his will, but Bastion either hasn’t noticed or doesn’t understand the significance of it. Instead they whirr in soft awe at their new surroundings and the engineer adds easily impressed to the list of traits.

  He puts a hand on their leg to stop them. “No, sit down I’ve got to make some adjustments.” He says gruffly. They flop down backwards with a muffled clank, it’s clearly a learned action. They were not designed for something as human as sitting, machines had no need to rest their feet.

  He takes a screwdriver out of the toolbox. It’s easy to remove the ammo for the gun mounted on their arm and for the two tucked inside the chassis. He’s spent many a night staring at the blueprints for the monster he created he’s practically committed it to memory, even if he was drunk more than half the time. Bastion makes a small worried sound as their sensors tell them they’re out of ammo but there’s no further fuss out of them.

  There’s obvious wear on them even if he ignores the thick rust caking their body. The engineer part of him itches to repair the damage but he still feels somewhat disgusted touching the Omnic. Too much blood on both their hands for his liking. “Alright, I’m done. Do whatever, I don’t care as long as you stay within the fence. If you do decide to step outside I won’t hesitate to scrap you.” Torbjörn tells them as he steps back and carries the discarded ammo back to the van.

  There’s the sound of thundering steps behind him as Bastion scrambles back to their feet. He turns around and they’re stumbling around after that screeching bird of theirs, arms out like they’re trying to catch it. It’s absurd to watch, this behaviour that doesn’t fit in with his reality. With nothing else to do Torbjörn sits on the edge of the back of the van, gun in his lap, just in case. He keeps a careful eye on the Omnic. After all, you can never tell with Bastion Units.

* * *

 

  It’s a _long_ 2 hours. About halfway through Bastion ran out of ways to amuse themself in the limited space they had and flopped onto their back to watch the sky. Had they been human Torbjörn would’ve thought they’d fallen asleep like that.

  Finally the communicator buzzes, signalling the arrival of the ship. He can just barely make it out as it lands in the distance. “Don’t even _think_ about making a run for it.” He growls to Bastion as he leaves the fenced in area. The string of noises that they respond with have a questioning lilt to them but the Omnic doesn’t try to follow.

  Winston meets him about halfway. His mood is serious, likely expecting trouble. Well, more dangerous trouble than the walking relic he’s found. “What happened?” He asks, all business, though one can just hear the hint of awkwardness in his voice.

  “I _may_ have officially become a criminal in the public eye, but not for the reason you may think.” Torbjörn tells him as he turns around, gesturing for the gorilla to follow him. The walk to the fence is a bit of a Schrodinger’s Cat situation, the engineer muses. Winston will either do something incredibly stupid or yell at him for being incredibly stupid. He hears the catch in his friend’s breath and knows he sees them. “It seems we weren’t as through as we thought.” He says, leaning on the fence.

  “So it would seem.” Winston’s voice sounds like he’s halfway to some sort of breakdown. The scientist takes a few deep breaths. “Explain?? Please?” He asks, gesturing to the cloud gazing Omnic.

  Torbjörn tells him the whole story, even though it’s the truth it sounds so unreal. “I know you must think I’ve been breathing in too many fumes from my forge, but they didn’t want to fight me. Even though I got up in their space, not when that idiot police officer decided to charge in guns blazing at a Bastion Unit. Hell, they came willingly with me,” He does his best to explain, gripping the old wood of the fence with his flesh hand. “I guess, I want to be proven wrong. That maybe one of these dammed things survived for a reason...” He trails off at that, leaving the two of them in heavy silence.

  Winston sighs, it’s a long and weary sound. “Alright, alright... Let’s be proven wrong.” The gorilla easily hops over the fence leaving Torbjörn to walk all the way around to the entrance, clearly annoyed with his friend’s antics.

  The engineer prods Bastion with his foot making a dull clank against the metal. “Come-on, get up rust bucket. It’s time to get a move on.” The Omnic shifts and tries to do some form of sit up, but the shape of their chest prevents the movement. They whine in distress once they realize this, jerking about like a turtle flipped on its shell.

  "Of course!” Torbjörn growls, cursing colourfully. He’d forgotten about that little design flaw. Knock a Bastion Unit on it’s back and it won’t be getting back up on its own. He only swears louder as Winston practically doubled over laughing. “You’re the tank! Give me a hand you useless ass!” He’s braced his feet on the ground and is trying to shove the Omnic into a position they can get up from. The gorilla only laughs harder at Torbjörn attempting to push Bastion onto their side.

  Well this is the beginning of something alright, and boy is this day a hell of a way to start it.


End file.
